


Steppes of Life

by Ahmira_Zaraelys (Zaraelys)



Series: Chronicles of Ahmira K. Soulrage [1]
Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Au Ra, Au Ra Warrior of Light, Azim Steppes before we reach Stormsblood, Backstory, F/M, Fantasia, Is the Au Ra Dragon or Voidsent?, Miscarraige, Pre-A Realm Reborn/Heavensward, headcannon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-20
Updated: 2017-04-20
Packaged: 2018-10-21 05:46:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,199
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10678926
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zaraelys/pseuds/Ahmira_Zaraelys
Summary: The Xaela tribes rarely interact, however; a chance encounter leads to something far more and a child of light is born. This is her story of how her parents met, and the trials she faced, long before she ever stepped foot inside Eorzea. As well as what drives her to Eorzea before the events of A Realm Reborn.





	Steppes of Life

**Author's Note:**

> This is the backstory of my main in FFXIV. This is her beginnings and my head-cannon for Au Ra. Also includes fantasia, because they're now cannon as far as I'm concerned. My rendition of how an Au Ra could *start* the game.  
> I wanted to get this posted before we learn much more about the Steppes; since once that hits I'm sure this will be very much an AU backstory.  
> The next work in the series will be multi-chaptered. And encompass a great deal of Spoilers for A Realm Reborn and eventually Heavensward; perhaps even Stormblood.

Steppes of Life

 

_*There is so little known about the Truth of Au Ra tribes. Their scales, aging and origins always a question to those not Auri. While the race internationally claim that their Mother and Father were from the void; there are many tribes who believe that their Mother and Father were dragon borne. The Raen have few who question the Truth, the Xaela tribes as varied as their locations. Of the Xaela tribes there is one which speaks that both could be true and that each tribesman would decide what the Truth was. The Qualli used their song to explain the unknown to each generation, then allowed the young to choose which they were descended from. They were the black sheep of the Au Ra; the other Xaela tribes rarely interacted with them and the Raen never saw them. The Qualli kept to themselves, hoping that they would not attract the attention of the Dotharl, the ruthless clan that thrives on exterminating other Xaela clans. Do to the constant battle most of the tribes are forced to endure, as well as those who seclude the Truth from non-Au Ri, it is rarely old age that takes an Au Ra from their tribe. Either from being born of dragon or voidsent, the Au Ra are a vastly long lived race, if their life isn't ended early. While the majority of the race has similar scale patching, there are variations that most do not see. The most common additional patch is down the spine, connecting to both neck and tail. The soles of the feet are rarely seen, but often scaled, while the back of the hands is much rarer. Sometimes, there will be scales over the shoulerblades. The Qualli believe this is to mark the dragon's wingpoints. No Au Ra has ever sprouted wings of void or dragon make in memory but legend says that it has happened. Even the Qualli know not what to believe of that._

_* ~ One of the few pages from Khojin Qualli's Journal that survived the firestorm._

 

The archer Alun of Clan Dazkar stalked the steppes. She had spent many years hunting in the steppes but she had never felt so lost as she did that day. In a twist of fate, the tiger she had been stalking had taken to chase her and it had been a long and wild run before she was finely safe but the surroundings were unfamiliar to her. Fear griped her. This meant only one thing, she had ran into another Clan's migration area. Her clan's path was currently at a point that verged near four other clans this time of year. The Dazkar did not spend much time at this camp location due to the closeness of the Dotharl.

As she tried to calm herself and catch her breath, she took stock of the cuts on her skin. While she was lucky that there were only a few claw scratches on her upper arm, she eyed the scales that were scraped off on her right forearm. After a moment of examining the torn area she knew that had there not been dirt within the cut she was sure it'd be bleeding freely. She brushed her hand against the dirt lightly and sucked in a sharp breath as massive pain swarmed over her.

The sound of birds trilling in the distance settled Alun's nerves as she forced her mind away from the pain. The birds would not song if danger was close. Therefore, Alun was surprised when she felt an arrow tip rest against her shoulder from behind. The man's voice startled her even more with its silk smooth tenor lifting over his words, “What tribe do you hail from Huntress?”

Her voice trembled even as her mind recognized the sung words as a Hunter from the Qualli. “Dazkar, Alun Dazkar.” The Qualli had no known quarrel with the Dazkar, she should be safe.

She felt the arrow leave her back and she turned to look at the massive male behind her. She took in his appearance as she waited to see what else he would do. His blue-black scales covered the bridge of his nose, his wide horns pointed down towards his shoulders, hair a burnt auburn that seemed windswept, his skin a blue white that contrasted his scales very nicely; his eyes were a green so dark they looked black but the limbal ring on his left eye was sea green. His tail twitched around his calf, catching her attention; it was long and, judging from her own clan, she knew it would have two large spikes jutting out from the back near the base.

“I am Tagadhur Qualli,” he intoned softly as he took in her quarrying gaze. He looked down at her and let his stance ease, a small smile tugging on his lips. She was tall for a female, with a bright blush tone to her skin, few dark scales on her face. Her horns turned backwards and swept past her shoulders, her black hair pinned backwards with clips. Amber eyes watched him with an even brighter limbal rings on both eyes. Her tail was short and far thinner then his own, two smaller spines at the base he had seen when he came up upon her back. “Are you well?”

She sighed and shook her head bringing her arm into sight where he cringed and nodded towards the path behind him. “Come, I will tend that at my home,” he turned towards the path and started to walk that way, hearing her stumble as she moved to catch up to him in surprise. He chuckled softly and waited until she could walk by his side before continuing on their way. They did not speak as they walked but after a short time, Tagur had begun to hum softly. The sound instantly put Alun at ease.

The pair reached the top of a hill some time later, the sight before Alun left her in awe. Instead of the tent village she expected, there were round huts with thatched roofs. Huts that were obviously a permanent feature of the village, but she knew that the Qualli migrated between villages just like the majority of Xaela tribes. All of the huts were arranged around an open center which obviously held a fire-pit and some type of seating. Her guide watched her as she took in his village, “It will begin to get dark soon, we should get your wounds tended before it so you can enjoy some dinner.” The stressed song-like words on wounds and dinner caught her off guard, she didn't understand his intention. She gave him a slightly puzzled look before following him down the path.

As she followed her guide, she felt his tribe's eyes upon her. While Tagadhur seemed to mean her no harm, would the rest of the Qualli? Alun stepped closer to Tagadhur as he walked to a hut and gestured her into it before he followed her in. Within the hut was a pile of furs for a bed, with a few furs stretched out to cover the rest of the floor. Behind the bed, next to the wall, Alun could make out a couple folded furs; so many furs left her feeling like she was in an Elder's home. A low table was set opposite the bed with a small satchel to the side. Tagur spoke softly, his tone soothing; “Please sit by the table.” Alun had nothing else to do but follow directions, she knelt and then sat on her heels.

Tagur sat down beside her, as close as he could so it wouldn't be awkward for her arm while he cleaned and wrapped it. His voice drifted over her ears in a calming melody as he tended her wounds, although she didn't understand the words. She drifted as he worked, the tone in his voice taking her mind away from him tending her. She didn't even notice as the dark descended and the fire-pit was lite. His voice trailed off and she looked up towards him, a small smile on her lips. He gave her a gentle glance, the firelight that had spilled in from the fire-pit making her features dance. He stood and reached down to help Alun get up to her feet.

He kept a hold of her hand as he lead her out towards the fire that was flickering. Dozens of Au Ra looked at them as Tagur brought her to a felled log and gestured for her to sit. An older woman walked over, her body dressed in different furs; horns adorned with decorated cuffs and earrings. “Osk _h_ Tagadhur, this is?” Her alto voice murmured softly and she eyed the unknown woman in their midst.

“ _n_ Ehd Mide,” Tagur toned deeply, “This is Alun Dazkar; I have offered her aid and safety til she can be returned to her clan.” His voice shifted octaves on aid and safety; Alun did not know when he could have offered such but did not voice her confusion. She hoped they would take any confusion on her face to the odd words they both had used.

The elder's white limbal rings glowed and made Alun feel like her very soul was being examined. “Herr _n_ Alun, you are welcomed among the Qualli.”

Alun bowed her head, “Thank you elder.” She hoped the use of her own clan's title would not offend the woman but she had no desire to attempt the unknown word. Mide gave an indulgent smile to her before gesturing towards Tagur. He bowed and turned towards Alun. He eyed the wrap he had placed on her arm and then made a motion to stay put; after a second of contemplation she nodded.

He took his leave of her side and a few minutes later, he set a wooden plate in her hands a sliced potato and a steak of some beast, later discovering it was tiger. As Tagur moved to sit besides her, he handed her a wooden goblet of a sweet nectar. She glanced up with an appreciative smile and noticed that he held his own goblet with his tail, something she had never tried to do. It must have taken a lot of practice to be able to carry a mostly full goblet with his tail.

She ate the dinner that was given to her while listening to the hunters tell tales to the tribe from the recent hunt. The tale was sung, as was the Qualli way, but Alun felt it was told much better then it would have been at the Dazkar fire-pit As the night grew late and the tribe dispersed towards their huts, Tagur lead Alun back to his hut.

She stood in the center of the single bed hut and looked around, trying not to jump to the obvious conclusion. He went over to the fur pile and pulled a thick fur that was folded into his arms and grabbed a bag that was by the pillow. Standing and moving towards Alun, he gave her a soft smile. “You can sleep here. I will be outside by the fire. Call out to me if you've a problem.” His voice was just as smooth as earlier.

Alun turned to look his way as he moved; “Thank you Tagadhur for everything,” He turned back towards her in the entryway and inclined his head, a hum escaping him as he turned and fully exited the hut. She went to bed soon after.

Several hours later Alun was awoken by heady thunder and she stood quickly and went out the entry. She was soon soaked but she rushed through the path back towards the fire-pit where she found Tagur in a hunter's small tent and it was not set up to withstand such rain. She reached his tent, “Tagadhur.”

While her voice was drowned out by the storm, Tagur still seemed to have heard her. “Alun?” His voice was deeper because of sleep.

“Please, come back into your hut; I cannot let you stay out here.” There was silence for several moments and then Tagur stepped out of the mix-shift tent; his fur remaining inside the semi dry location. “Please...” Her voice was soft and wispy; Tagur nodded a whiny hum escaping him as he bundled his tent into his arms and swiftly followed Alun back to the hut. They both stood just inside the hut, avoiding more rain but soaked.

Tagur pulled the fur he had been using out of the bundled tent; then held it in front of his eyes, with the soft leather facing her. “You could become ill, please use this to cover yourself.”

It took Alun a moment to gather the nerve to disrobe from her sopped clothing leaving her in nothing more then her scales before she carefully pulled the fur from his hands and wrapped it around her completely. She hummed softly at the warm fur and walked over to the bed, pulling another folded fur from the back and brought it over to him. He smiled as soon as she turned, removed his own wet clothing. After wrapping himself in his fur he spoke softly. “Thank you for worrying about me, but I would have been fine for the night.” He gestured towards the bedding; “Get some rest.” He reclined himself by the table watching Alun stand uncertainly for several moments before she accepted the bed he insisted she use.

The next morning Tagur gave Alun a tunic that was as large as a dress on her, since her cloths were still wet. Exiting the hut caused Alun to be glad she insisted he join her back in the hut; the lowest point of the village was flooded. They spent the morning helping any of the tribe recover from the flood; mending several huts. After the midday meal, a scouting party informed the tribe of the news; the pathways towards the Dazkar clan were flooded and there was no way from their vantage point to know if the clan itself was having flooding issues. It would be at least a couple days before Alun could even attempt to return to her tribe.

After a week of living with the Qualli, she had begun to understand the song that was a part of their lives. After two weeks, and the paths becoming travel-able, she didn't wish to leave. After three weeks, [n]Ehd Mide had granted her leave to live among the Qualli and not return to the Dazkar if she so wished. After three months, Tagur had started to court her. Twenty one months after they started courting, Tagadhur and Alun bonded.

Khojin Qualli was born to Tagadhur and Alun a little over three years after they were bonded. Their daughter had amber limbal rings that shined over gold and silver eyes. She had a bronzed skin tone and the beginnings of a spike-tipped tail.

 

She was a boisterous child, enjoying the march to the next village because she could see so much from her father's shoulders. When she was eight, she was required to carry herself as much as possible between villages. Khojin was also taught about their Mother and Father and the truth as it was accepted and the potential for its untruth. She was told that within the Qualli, each member would choose which truth they believe when they've reached their twenty fourth summer.

In conjunction with the Songs and truth, Khojin also had lessons in battlecraft. Alun taught Khojin the art of the bow, while Tagur taught her the use of a sword. Along with teaching her the high words they used, Mide taught Khojin elemental spells; fire and wind, earth and thunder, light and shadow. Khojin had a knack for light magics, the ability to heal wounds.

During Khojin's twelfth summer, the Qualli took in a wandering child that was on the steppes. He claimed that his tribe had been attacked and he escaped because he was told to run. Mide took him in for a day, some type of arcane study as far as Khojin knew, but at the end the lad was welcomed into the Qualli. He was in his sixteenth summer. Narantuyaa, a mouthful for most of the younger Qualli, became an older brother to many. It was Tagur who called him Naran for the first time and it stuck. He had no aptitude for any ranged weapons, tending to stick to twin daggers or a sword. He taught any of the tribe who wished to learn intermixed to his own studies.

 

The Qualli tribe continued their migration cycle with no interruptions for the next several years, Khojin and Naran spending a great deal of time together. When Khojin's seventeenth summer hit, she and Naran were betrothed, it would be within two summers for them to bond. Khojin also confronted Naran during that Autumn. The Qualli were between villages, buying and selling items with another clan. This was normal, but one interaction with Naran that Khojin caught was very not normal.

Naran had walked up to a secluded member of the other tribe, his hands moving into an odd motion. The unknown man making a motion as well before they both started to talk quietly. After an hour or so, Naran walked off a package in his hands. She hesitated for a while, wanting to follow him and find out what was going on but was almost afraid of the answer. Khojin avoided speaking to Naran until they reached the village a week later.

She knew Naran was confused, being asked into Khojin's hut that first night before dinner, but she couldn't not ask now that they were no longer traveling. When Naran entered the hut, Khojin was seated at her little table. He sat down near her, so he could see her clearly; his head tilted just slightly to the side as he made a low hum. She looked into his green eyes, the sea blue limbal rings bright in the low-light of the hut. A mewling whine escaped her throat as she tried to put into words the chaotic mess that was in her mind. He reached a hand over to clasp her own and murmured her name, a touch of concern lighting his tone.

“Narantuyaa,” Khojin started at last, instantly plunging the situation into seriousness with his full name, “you are hiding something from me.”

He gave her a look full of confusion. “I am hiding nothing of importance, Khojin,” there was a slight waver in his voice as he watched her.

Khojin gave him a disappointed glance, sadness in her tone. “Tell me about the man at the clan meet.”

Naran flinched. He opened his mouth, thought a moment and closed it again. There was a look in Khojin's eyes that told him he had to tell her the truth or he would regret a lie. He heaved a heavy sigh. With a soft baritone he spoke words that froze Khojin. “My name is Narantuyaa Moks-Qualli. I am firstly a member of the Moks tribe, then the Qualli. _n_ Ehd Mide is aware and knows I have no intention to cause trouble to the Qualli. That man was my father. I had sent word to him last winter for a specific item, through the Moks we encountered during our few meets...” He trailed off, not sure what else to say and unsure of Khojin, who's eyes had grown wide and slightly panicked.

“What else?” it was barely over a whisper.

“A _n_ e _h_ sk i _n_ , a _n_ mo _n_.” Naran spoke the words slowly, his tone stressing the living and non-living sounds without difficulty.

Khojin's eyes filled with tears as she turned the high words into atypical words. “A _n_ afa _h_ sk _.”_

Naran pulled her towards him, wrapping Khojin in his arms. After a few moments, he moved one arm into the pack that was slung across his shoulder and pulled out the leather wrapped package she had seen him get from his father. “I was going to give this to you tomorrow, but I think now would be better.”

She pulled herself up into a more stable sitting position and looked into his eyes, they were glittering. “Naran?” He smiled and hummed, gesturing to the tie until Khojin reached over and pulled it loose. The leather fell away to reveal two horn cuffs made of silver and a necklace secured atop a pair of daggers. They all had a purple tone opal set in them. She stared at the beautiful smithwork on the intricate designs on the necklace, the hilts of the daggers much more simple. “They're so beautiful.” Her tone was awed and she was unsure if she could take something that obviously would have cost so much.

Naran seemed to know her hesitation to don the jewelry. “In the Qualli, tradition states I give you horn cuffs, or their like that would fit, as a betrothal gift. Then grant a new gift upon the birth of our first child. In the Moks, we are to give our intended a necklace. With a weapon for the bond. As I am both, I give all three for intended and you can look forward to one after our child is born.”

She gave him a big smile and fastened the cuffs to her horns with ease, removing the leather ones her parents had given her. Naran took the necklace and fastened the choker around her neck, pleased that it was just a little loose. She stood with the daggers and placed them with her bow, nestled by the bed. Her intended hugged her loosely when she walked back to his side. “I'm sorry I doubted you.”

He chuckled. “You caught on to the signs, which is rare. I am not worried.”

“Will you...” she trailed off then shook her head, glancing back towards the fires that were starting to be lite outside the entryway.

“Will I what Khojin?” His voice carried a devious tone to it.

“Teach me?” He lead her outside and to the fires for the evening meal. As they sat down with Alun and Tagur, she hummed getting Naran's attention once more.

He smiled. “If you'd like, I will.”

“I should learn,” Khojin replied softly. She knew her parents wouldn't question, even if they were wondering what the two were talking about.

 

Over the next two years until their bonding, Naran taught Khojin the Moks Signs. While she did learn them fluently, it was a difficult study for her. She also continued her magical studies with Mide. As well as the swordplay with Tagur and dagger play with Naran; she would go hunting with Alun with her bow every other trip. Their lives were a typical routine, including the meets over the next two years where Naran introduced Khojin to Moks. In the two meets before their bonding, she was able to sign and initiate the contact on her own—Naran watching proudly.

The bonding between Khojin and Narantuyaa occurred at dawn in the spring, she was in her nineteenth year. Mide did the entire ceremony in the High Words. Only about half of which were taught to tribesman, though only the [n]ehd knew why that was. There was carved bone ornamentation that sparkled in the sunlight. Khojin wore a bone crown which sported a dragon and a succubus in flight, highlighting both sides of the Qualli truth. Naran had a bone chestguard with the dragon and succubus fighting. Both wore the palest beige leather furs they were able.

As the sun reached midday, the newly bonded pair was escorted from the location of the bonding to their hut surrounded by beautiful song. Their lives together just starting.

 

They had been bonded for three years when the Dotharl came at the Qualli Tribe and Khojin's world was shattered. She awoke suddenly, terrified screams in the air and smoke filling her nose. Naran was moving to the entrance of the hut, his daggers in his hands. He was clad only in leather breeches. Khojin stood and pulled on her bonded's discarded tunic then swung her bow onto her back, her own daggers in hand. She moved to his side and moved in tandem into the firestorm that the village had become.

She could see Dotharl wraiths attacking any of the Qualli caught fleeing their burning huts. Cries for help in the High Words could be heard from all directions. Continuing to move in tandem, they stalked through the paths and fires. They were weary of finding Dotharl but equally worried about Tagur and Alun. A bird's trill echoed around the village, triggering them to race forward towards the outer edge of huts. The trill was a Qualli Retreat sound.

Naran made short work of all Dotharl attackers that they came upon, making sure Khojin would not have to take an Auri life. When they came upon the remnants of the Qualli things looked grim. There were twenty six adult Qualli in a circle, none of the children were present. Surrounding the Qualli were five dozen Dotharl. Having no where else to go, Naran and Khojin joined their clan.

Khojin gasped as she saw her parents, Tagur taking shot after shot with his bow. Alun was behind him cradling her left arm which was bloody and limp. They fended off the attackers for a while, the clan talking in High Words. They needed to get as many as they could to escape, to survive this night. Most of the children had manage to escape into the wilds due to _n_ ehd Mide's magic, who had fallen soon afterwards. Talk turned to those in the circle who they could try to get to safety. There was a lull in battle and Naran turned to Khojin, her bow on her back; quiver empty.

He kissed her softly, his eyes pained but determined. “I need you to run a _n_ mo _h_. Use my sign, flee the steppes and raise our child in safety.”

Khojin flinched, one hand resting on her abdomen. Alun made in inquisitive hum. She nodded to her mother, answering yes that she was with child. Her voice was pained as she pleaded with her bonded. “We cannot loose you afa _h_ sk _.”_

“You must do this Khojin,” Naran toned darkly, “I will send word through my brethren should I live this day.”

She continued to shake her head no, refusing to contemplate leaving her family. It was her father that spoke next, “If you cannot flee for yourself, for your bonded, nor Alun and I; please, daughter, leave the Qualli behind for your unborn.” Alun was nodding along with Tagur's words; as were a few of the clan that had heard him.

“Alright,” she said, tears gathering in her eyes. “A _n_ e _h_ sk i _n_ ,” she intoned watery. She eyed the clan, seeing three other women and two of the youngest men moving to the thinnest point in the reinforced attackers line. She joined them, gripping her daggers tight. The run into the hunting grounds would be dangerous. The next few hours would go by in a blur for Khojin.

 

Khojin stumbled into the Clansmeet after a week on the run. She did not recognize either of the clans, which meant she had left the Qualli migration paths and stumbled upon another's. It was rare for single Au Ra to come to a meet, but not unheard of. She wandered; searching the tradesman; looking for the telltale signs that Naran had taught her. The thought of her bonded caused her to close her eyes in pain as her chest tightened. Two days past of various tribesmen coming in and out of the meet before she caught the sign between two moks from both clans. Khojin meandered over and as they glanced up towards her, she let her hands shift into the sign for help.

Both men's eyes widened slightly and they made a sign of welcome then gestured her over. She came to their sides. “Well met, sister; what ails you?” the older of the two inquired, even as he took in her various cuts and scrapes that were wrapped with plants.

“The Qualli have fallen, perhaps completely.” Her tone dropped lightly, “I seek knowledge of my bonded, Narantuyaa Moks.” The younger man made a gesture to his companion; Khojin translating it easily. “I am of the Moks tribe by bond, my unborn by blood.”

The elder's eyes shot up to her, taking in the tattered and bloody tunic. “There is no news from the Qualli, first of the trouble I'd heard of it.” He voice continued in a smirk. “That was a complicated sign, your bonded taught you well; go rest yourself next to my wears while I tend to his trade.” She made the sign of thanks as she slipped behind them both and sat on the ground, her arms cradling her body. She dozed lightly until she sensed the man turn towards her, in which she glanced up at him instantly. “It is late, come.” Having nothing else to do, Khojin followed him. “I am Ozbeg Moks-Angura.”

“Khojin Moks-Qualli.” He chuckled as he lead her into the Angura's camp. Some of the clan eyed her suspiciously but none spoke against her. He lead her towards a large tent then ducked into it, holding the flap until she entered as well.

“Khogui,” Ozbeg spoke, “will you tend to our sister's wounds?”

The woman who responded carried with her a satchel of supplies. “You are, sister?”

Khojin discretely made the sign for truth towards Ozbeg, who laughed and answered for her. “Khojin Moks-Qualli, bonded of Narantuyaa.”

Khogui nodded and gestured her bonded out of the tent. It took the woman almost an hour to tend to the minor cuts. She was most worried about the long gash that Khojin had in her side, though Khojin had managed to tend it relatively well while on the run. It would be weeks before she would know if her child was well or not. “Oz, you can come in now.” Khogui said as her companion finished pulling on one of Khogui's tunics and breeches.

Ozbeg brought in three platters of food. It consisted of roots and berries with a few strips of jerky. It was like nothing Khojin had ever tasted before. She was grateful for their generosity. After they had finished eating Khogui took the plates out to clean them while Ozbeg puled out some extra furs so Khojin would have a place to sleep. “Angura will not take a wanderer at this time, however; you can stay here for the week until the clan leaves the meet. By that time, perhaps we will have information about your bonded or clan survivors. Either way we will ensure you have some supplies for your journey.”

Tears pulled at her eyes. “Thank you brother, I know not what I'd do without you.”

When the Angura clan was ready to leave, Khojin had no positive news of either her clan or bonded. The Dotharl were hunting down the escaped, she learned. No where in the steppes would be safe if you were not taken into another clan. Ozbeg and Khogui packed up supplies for her that included jerky, spare cloths, furs and herbs for her cuts. They directed her towards the Raen settlement by way of two more meet locations; hope that she would learn more but still have a safe place for destination. They also swore that they'd spread the word that she was headed to that settlement to the other Moks. She bid them farewell, knowing that she would likely never see them again.

 

Khojin took two and a half months to reach the Raen settlement. Of the two meet locations she passed, one was empty with recent signs of activity—must have just missed them. The other she spent a week at, the Moks there not nearly as helpful as Ozbeg and Khogui but no word was heard from any Qualli nor Naran. She was even more disheartened when she left them then she was before she found them. The female Moks that Khojin spent time with told her that the wound on her side was still bad and that such injury could cause her child trouble. Going on to inform her that it was likely only her magic funneling towards her womb that was keeping the child alive at this time.

She entered the Raen settlement in early morning to sights that she'd never seen before. Stone buildings with wooden roofs, stone roads and walkways, built-in market stalls and Domans. She had known the Raen lived alongside the non-Au Ra but to see so many walking alongside was a strange sight. Khojin spent several hours just wandering and observing. She only saw four or five Xaela in that time frame and none acknowledged her.

Khojin stumbled on a rock and she gasped the slightly formed scales where the side gash was tearing. She hit the ground, her hands gripping the newly bleeding wound. A Raen woman saw the incident and rushed over to Khojin. When she realized the tumble had opened a wound, the woman called out to a young Doman man who was able to lift Khojin and carry her inside of the Raen's nearby home. As she laid on the bed, the Raen woman pulled the tunic away from her body revealing the angry red skin that was bleeding. Khojin asked for forgiveness for intruding and thanking her for her aid. The Raen smiled and tended the wound, getting it to stop bleeding and secured it. Then Khojin gasped, her hands flying to her lightly rounded belly before passing out.

It was dark outside the window when Khojin awoke, her whole being aching. She felt like she had a fire burning in her veins. She went to get up when a gentle, pale scale adorned hand settled on her shoulder stalling her. “You mustn't move.”

She looking into the Raen's eyes, pale blue with purple limbal rings. “What happened?”

The woman winced. “You,” her voice was pained, “you've miscarried.” As Khojin's body started to heave as she cried so heavily, the woman tired to continue but she was unheard. “I'm sorry I couldn't stop it from happening.” Khojin remained in tears for half an hour, her Raen watcher resting their hand on her hand attempting to give as much comfort as she could. Once the tears began to subside, the woman tried again. “There was nothing I could do, I'm sorry.”

Khojin knew then why she felt on fire. She'd ran her magic dry. Having not replenished it in the months since the attack, she'd slowly drained it keeping her child alive. Now, it was spent and she'd lost the only thing that remained important to her. She took a moment to think of the words, thanking _n_ ehd Mide for teaching her the words beyond the tribe's understanding. She'd not even told her parents that Mide had chosen her to become _n_ ehd when Mide left them. Now it mattered.

Khojin sung to herself in the High Words, a prayer for her lost child. “Scor _h_ oom ak _h_ , no _n_ ya _h_ , so _h_ m do _h_. A _n_ k _h_ ash _,_ a _n_ ya _n_.” The Raen gave her a very odd look at the words that tumbled out of Khojin which despite the situation caused Khojin to grin slightly. “I am Khojin.”

“I am Tsukikage Chiryoshi.” At the widened eyes she chuckled softly. “In the trade-tongue, my name means moonlight and I am a healer, denoted by my surname. You should get some rest, we can talk in the morning.” She stood from the chair and moved it away from the bed, “I am across the hall if something happens, I'll hear you.”

Khojin's voice was still watery, “Thank you Tsukikage.”

 

Khojin spent a week in Tsukikage's home. After two days, she had been able to assist the woman around the house. At the end of the week, Tsukikage deemed Khojin healed adequately. Thus Khojin ventured out into the settlement. She returned each night, doing minor things to acquire coin to pay for food and lodgings to Tsukikage. Khojin delivered many messages, ensured deliveries happened, gathered items for the local crafters and generally made herself seen and heard by all. If Naran came, news of her would be sure to reach him.

After three months, Tsukikage resumed Khojin's healer's training. Her magic having at last replenished naturally. It took her six months as Tsukikage's apprentice before Khojin accepted that her bonded was likely dead. Surely if he lived, he would have made some contact with her. She decided that she would stay until the healer told her she knew enough to travel as a healer herself.

Khojin remained with Tsukikage for two autumns more. It was descending into winter when Khojin heard whispers in the town. Whispers of Dotharl searching for escaped songbirds. Tsukikage was surprised that the deadly tribe still hunted Qualli members and understood that Khojin was afraid to stick around. The healer told her that she was good enough to continue curing others and that it would be safest for her to leave Othard altogether.

Without any word from her bonded in just over two years, Khojin had no other choice then to leave her home. She had long accepted that she was alone in the world. She bid Tsukikage farewell and left, joining onto a caravan that was as far from the Steppes as she could be without leaving the area proper. If that was not a safe place, Khojin would have no other option then to leave to a neighboring country.

The travel was long even if life within the caravan wasn't too difficult. The further from natural Au Ra areas Khojin went, the more looks of suspicion she got. By the time she was at the Othard border, Khojin got the aid of a fantasia potion. A substance that induces the change of the physical form. She modeled her appearance to that of the highlanders that hailed from Ala Mhigo. She avoided naming herself until she knew more of their practices, finely choosing a name that followed their naming types more then her proper name.

When next she was asked her identity, she replied "Ahmira Soulrage."

Although she changed her appearance to better fit in; in her heart she knew that she was truly hiding from the Dotharl. They would not expect the Hyur to be the Qualli they chased. She had only recently reached her twenty-fifth year, and lingering pain bloomed in her mind as she took one last look towards the steppes. Anger blossomed over the pain; burning white in her veins. She would overcome what had happened to her.

She moved from group to group, traveling the various Eorzea landscapes with new people every few months. She had tucked the daggers Naran have gifted her into her satchel, donning a staff. It was a plain gnarled wood, obviously burned at some point. None of those she ever traveled with thought it was anything more then a walking stick that could be used to smack something if in dire need. She had no intention of using it for anything else. Mide had not taught her dark magics with tool, only her hands and intent.

When the newest caravan was attacked, she sent out fires from her hands; the rage empowering the flames. One of the elezen laughed afterwards, christening her the "Bringer of Dragon Fire." Those words caused her to grin darkly. She may look Hyuran to everyone, but she was a Moks-Qualli. Her **_Truth_** was obvious. The Au Ra were dragon borne. She left their teasing alone, pleased that those around her were safe from the beastman attack. She inquired to what they were and a pair of Hyur looked at her in surprise. Kolbalds, they had eventually told her.

She continued to travel the countryside for a few years. Her options to travel beside slimming as the Garlean Invasion force caused Eorzea to call to arms. She avoided the areas of trouble, not even venturing into the Major Cities. As much as she wanted to be of assistance to Eorzea, what with the Garleans reminding her of the Dotharl, she had no desire to be pulled into any of their Grand Companies.

Her twenty-ninth birthday passed uneventfully for her. Though not long after, Eorzea was shattered by the Battle of Cartenaeu. She had been close enough to the battle to have a view of Bahamut escaping his prison but she'd be safely away enough that she did not join in the loss of the Warriors of Light. She had lost friends that day, even as her memories of their faces-People she'd known through her travels well-vanished from her mind's eye. Whatever the twelve had decided, it wiped them from all who had known them.

She sent a prayer to Thaliak, the scholar of the Twelve. He was the seeker of knowledge and truth, he alone made sense to her Qualli thoughts. Her prayer was for those lost, for the truth of their vanishing. She remained unanswered but she had expected no less. While she did tend to the wounded as she traveled, it was more often that she reigned fire on her foes.

Even after so many years, she felt too broken to be a true healer. She often dreamed of her family, mostly in horrible charred details. It angered her and thus, fueled her fires more. She started to travel alone, having learned the lands well enough in the previous years to not need others to guide her. It was during the next five years that she started to feel more like herself. She spoke rarely, her voice song-stressed when she did speak. She used hums and gestures far more often. Sometimes she'd reach for a tail that no longer was there, or move to caress her horns in thought and she'd be pained at her forced change. Perhaps she'd be safe enough to change back soon.

Changing would be a long time coming, she'd soon learn. She had begun to find herself blocked in the outlying camps and towns. They wanted only adventurers whom were signed into an Adventuring Guild. There were one in each City-State. To sign in, however, one must also join one of the battlecraft guilds. The lalafell who informed her of this said that the Cities were trying to avoid losing the names of the adventurers like they'd lost the Warriors of Light. She could understand that, but found it frustrating. She'd spent nine years traveling Eorzea, having only visited the Cities surrounding areas. She'd left the others in the caravan's to enter them properly.

With nothing left to do, she asked her informant which battle guilds were where. At the end of the explanation, she thanked him with a small purse of Gil She had a wagon to catch it would seem. Her fire was too bright still to go anywhere else but the city of Ul'dah.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> High Words is the dragonspeak from the FFXIV Lore Post.  
> http://forum.square-enix.com/ffxiv/threads/265527-Dragonspeak-Dictionary  
> If it wasn't posted (and a much better list, at that) I'd probably make my series notes for dragonspeak a Work in the series of it's own. I do, however, feel that it would lesson the fact that the language was created by Koji Fox if I posted a list for it.
> 
> I created two words following what appeared to be how other words were made. Child: ya/n/ is derived from ya/h/ for young. Beloved: afa/h/sk was derived from eternal: afa/h/ and love e/h/sk. 
> 
> Her words at finding her child taken from her roughly translate to: Punishment from fate, forsaken young, sleep farewell. I regret, my child.


End file.
